Finding What's Worth Fighting For
by KhanyaTheBarbarian
Summary: A young troll rogue finds something while walking in recently Horde-occupied Ashenvale. The decision he makes will change his life forever. Rated T to be safe.
1. Orphan of War

_Chapter 1: Orphan of War_

**Author's Note: Hello, this is my first fanfiction. I've been looking for a way to practice my writing skills. I appreciate constructive criticism and advice**

A young troll rogue wandered through the dusky forest of Ashenvale. His coarse black hair was kept in a thick braid which rested on his shoulders. His dark eyes spoke of a bitter contempt for the events taking place around him. Garrosh (just thinking the name sickened the troll) had just wrested the area from the resident night elves. The rogue knew that such a flagrant act of aggression would inflame the Alliance more than ever, and that this rapid consumption of resources would not be necessary unless one was making plans for war. This seemed an all too likely prediction, judging by the mounds of Night Elf bodies scattered through the woods. Just as he was shaking his head at the thought, the troll heard a small, strange noise.

The sound was unidentifiable at first. It was a small, musical gurgle, more beautiful than birdsong. Its beauty is what stood out in the middle of this rampant destruction. The moment the troll identified the noise, a cold, dreading feeling spread through his chest as he prayed to the Loa that he was mistaken. He walked toward the direction of the sound, and saw a Night Elf woman in simple dress lying broken and lifeless on the ground. Her fate was clearly the work of the Kor'Kron, as few else were near who could've enacted such brutality on another living creature. The troll then turned his head to the source of the sound. There were two small ferns at the base of a large tree, which the rogue approached. His trembling, three fingered hands parted the fronds to reveal, hidden there, an infant with glowing white eyes, and dark blue hair just starting to grow on its head. There was a small note tucked into the basket where the baby was nestled, and the rogue was suddenly grateful for his language lessons.

_To the one finds this note,_

_ The Horde aggression in Ashenvale has increased of late. I have decided to take my daughter, Ladoreith, and leave the area. If you are reading this, it means I didn't make it. I am the only family my little girl has left, and I will not have her in an orphanage. If my daughter still lives, please, keep her safe._

The troll knew that the decision he made at this moment would change his life forever. On the one hand, he was holding a child of an enemy race, and could be charged with treason for aiding her. However, Ladoreith was just that, a child. So, the rogue decided not to consider what the "Warchief" would tell him to do, but what Vol'jin would tell him to do. So the troll removed his cloak, and gently wrapping the baby in it, whispered, "Hello, Ladoreith. My name is Halkek, and we are going to find a place where you can be safe".

And so began the journey of an unlikely father for an orphan of war.


	2. Out of Place

_Chapter 2: Out of Place_

**Author's note: I will be moving back into school soon. Expect some delay between chapters, but I will try to be diligent about it.**

Halkek and Ladoreith had found their way to the town of Booty Bay in Stranglethorn Vale. It may not have been the most favorable place in which to live, but nobody really seemed to ask questions. They could have settled in Rachet, but that was far too close to Orgrimmar for comfort. At the moment, the troll was dozing in his favorite rocking chair. Streaks of snowy white had appeared in his black hair, which hung loose down to his waist. A brown leather patch rested over his right eye, as a souvenir from a rather heated bar fight. Just as he started snoring softly, Halkek felt a gentle tap on his knee.

"Papa?" intoned a soft, clear voice. Halkek snorted awake, looking down at the small elf-child at his feet.

"Yes, my dearest one?" replied the troll. Ladoreith seemed like she was holding a question in that was so large it might cause her to burst open. She was absolutely trembling with the effort of holding it back.

Finally, the girl raised a hand and touched one of the long, mammoth like tusks that protruded from her father's mouth and asked, "When are mine going to grow in?" Halkek let out a heavy sigh and put his hand gently over Ladoreith's. He had been dreading this day for a while now. Ladoreith was growing ever more inquisitive, and she was bound to notice the physical differences sooner or later. Whether it had been why she could see in the dark but he couldn't, why she had ten fingers and he had six, or why he had tusks and she didn't. Better now than later, he supposed.

"Only trolls got tusks like mine, darling", he said.

"But I am a troll!" replied Ladoreith, clearly growing upset.

"No, little one, you be a Night Elf"

This caused Ladoreith to pause for a moment. After looking down at her feet in thought, she asked, "Was my mommy a Night Elf too?"

"Yes."

"What happened to her?"

Halkek had always avoided this sensitive topic. He decided that he would leave out some of the more graphic details until Ladoreith was of the appropriate age to hear them. "Your mother passed away when you was just a baby. She was da only blood family dat ya had, and somebody needed ta keep you safe", he said.

Ladoreith seemed to be looking for something to say. It was as if it was a thought too big for one so small to put into words. After a minute or two of this obvious effort on her part, the girl let out a long, loud yawn. Looking at the time, Halkek realized it was just past noon. Gently putting his hands on her waist, he picked Ladoreith up and rested her on his shoulder. Halkek said lovingly, "I think it's time for ya nap, little girl". Ladoreith made some half-hearted protest, before letting her eyes close as her father carried her to her room.

After Ladoreith had been napping for some time, Halkek set about making an evening meal. He rubbed two fish fillets with some herbs that were hanging in the kitchen. After he set the meat to roasting, he began frying some squash in light oil and salt. Once the food was done, he set the table, remembering once again that he needed to have that wobbly leg fixed. Halkek stretched his aching back and went to Ladoreith's room to wake her.

Knocking gently on the door frame, he called, "Ladoreith, dinner time". Hearing no reply, he looked into the room. The sight that greeted him caused his heart to drop into his stomach. Ladoreith was lying on her bed, her face flushed, sweat appearing on her face, despite the coolness inside the house. She let out a small, wet sounding cough just as Halkek rushed to her bedside. "Baby, talk to me", he implored.

Ladoreith opened her eyes slightly and asked, "Papa, why is it so hot?" At this Halkek laid a hand on her burning forehead. He ran to the kitchen, soaking a cloth in cool water. He went back to Ladoreith's room, and began to gently wipe her face with the rag. As he did this, he sang softly to her. The low, gravelly voice in which he sang the Zandali lullaby would be considered beautiful by few. However, in his voice and in the words of the song were contained all the love that a father possesses. And that is where the song's beauty came from. After Ladoreith's breathing steadied a bit, Halkek put on his cloak, and though he dreaded her being alone, left to find a healer.

Halkek returned to the house, followed by a female Tauren druid. "Where is the little one?" she asked.

Halkek pointed to the smaller bedroom and said nervously, "I got to tell ya, we may not be like da other families you've visited". The Tauren woman simply raised one eyebrow and entered the bedroom. Upon seeing just what Halkek meant, the druid inhaled slightly, but said nothing. Halkek stood at the back of the room, chewing his fingernails, while the healer went to work. She held one large, furry hand over Ladoreith's forehead, and a green light emanated from her palm. The light spread over the elf-child's body, and some of the redness seemed to leave her face.

"I've taken the worst of the sickness away," said the Tauren, straightening and pulling a bottle from her pack, "She'll still be feeling under the weather, but give her a little of this in the morning and before bed and she will recover".

"What was wrong wit her?" asked Halkek.

"Night Elves are not native to a jungle environment. She'll acclimate eventually".

"I can't tank you enough," said the troll, taking a deep breath, "And I know you probably be wondering…"

"I am here as a healer, nothing more", the woman cut him off. As she reached the door to the house, the druid looked over her shoulder and said, "I have seen much stranger things in my time living here. My only worry is that she will feel out of place as she gets older".

After the door closed, Halkek pinched the bridge of his pointed nose and let out a tired sigh. Then, he went to sit by Ladoreith's bedside, knowing that he couldn't sleep if he tried.

**Author's note: There will be another time jump in the next chapter. I really want to focus on the trials Ladoreith faces as a young woman. However, this scene from her childhood will play an important role later.**


End file.
